The winner will be chosen based on the judges's preferences, as well as the following questions: Does this entry capture my attention immediately? Does it make me want to continue reading? Is the writing clear? They will also take into consideration the writer's voice and style--not necessarily technical issues, such as grammar, punctuation, etc.

This is only for fun and to stretch your writing muscles--not necessarily to be taken too seriously. =)

The judge panel chooses these winners based on a point system. Keep in mind that the judges are not aware of which entry belongs to which participant until after the judging is complete.

Wow!! You all made it extremely hard to judge this week's entries. Since there were 7 entries, there will only be one honorable recognition. Great job to all of you, and thanks for participating! =)

I smooth the sheets on the mistress’ bed and snatch a pillow from the corner, putting it carefully in place. One mistake and I could be whipped. My mistress has a vile temper. The sound of wings catches my ear, and I turn to see a mourning dove perched on the windowsill. My footsteps are silent as I walk towards it. You had to know how to go unnoticed to survive here. The dove doesn’t seem scared by my approach, so I reach slowly out and stroke its silky wings. “What are you doing here, pretty bird?” I quietly ask. “This terrible haunt is no place for you.” It just coos calmly, cocking its head. If only I could be so carefree. And then I hear footsteps in the hall. Sharp, jabbing footsteps, like someone was trying to stamp through the floor. The mistress. “Fly!” I whisper urgently, “Fly away, quick!” The dove only coos, so I gently brush it off the sill and watch it fly up into the pale blue sky. If only I could be as free as he. A piercing voice makes me start, and I turn around to face the mistress. Her clear eyes glace around the room. “You haven’t done a very good job, have you?” Her voice is like sharp ice. I hang my head. “No, ma’am.” “Laziness is not tolerated here.” A cruel smile comes over her face. “Laziness is only punished. Follow me.” She whirls out of the room and I follow without a word. If only I had wings like the dove, then I could fly away too. Fly far and fast and never come back. But I don’t even have the hope of escape; the mistress is far too pleased about having a princess as her slave for that.

A man donned in a grey cloak, his brow drawn, stared down upon a boy dressed in a black hood. His old eyes studied the young eyes of a boy. The youth's expression; however, was unreadable.

“Pray tell,” said the elder, “What makes you think you are the one that was called for?”

The boy’s expression never changed. “My mother told me.”

The man’s wrinkled, solemn demeanor gave way to a slight chortle
“Ah, but it is every mother’s dream that her son be the one to change the tide
and break the curse.” The mockery in his tone gave way to that of
despondency. “Go on home, boy,” he sighed, “A mother’s dream can’t
end the war.”

“I am he.” The boy insisted. “And I can
prove this to you.” He slowly lifted his right hand forward,
spreading his fingers apart. A single spark kindled from the center of his
palm.

The elder’s dark eyes opened wide. The corners of his
mouth lifted and he shook grey head in awe. “You are the one—you are the one who
is to save us!”

The fire died and the boy bowed his head. “I am
he.” He tilted his head up; his stoic expression began to
change. A strange sort of expression twisted his young features,
causing the elder to feel unsettled in a way he could not
describe. “I am he.” The boy continued “My mother—she
died of agony in this knowledge.” He stood up straighter, all at
once not seeming the innocent boy he was, but so much more than
that. He grinned, his green eyes peering down upon the
man. “And so shall you.”

I thrash in my covers
screaming. My sweat glues them to my bare arms, and the sound of my wails is
muffled by thick, black smoke. The already hot air grows hotter as the fire
draws closer. I’m paralyzed, trapped in my own body. The flames eat at the
floor, the walls, the rug, anything they can consume.

Invisible hands shake
me. I cry out in the pain they add to my body besides my aching lungs and
boiling blood. The flames are licking my hand, but it doesn’t hurt. I look
closer. The flames are coming from my hand. I open my mouth to scream…

“Kiera!”

My eyes snap open.
I’m in my room, but there is no fire. No smoke. No pain. That is, except for
the soreness of my raw throat.

I shriek and attempt
to wriggle out of the hands that clutch me. My already racing heart goes
sprinting. I can’t be caught. The fire almost got me, I won’t the hands grab
me.

I nod. Suddenly, a
mourning dove in the open window catches my gaze as it flutters its perfectly
formed wings. I’m transfixed. It looks so peaceful, unlike me. A war rages in
me, never ceasing. There is no rest. No peace.

The ringing of bells
breaks the silence, shattering it like a vase. The dove disappears into the
night.

16 comments:

“I told you I’d be back.” Snow whirls around me, and I can’t see the person holding me at dagger point. But I recognize the grating voice. Marzuk. The dagger presses harder. “No more escape, little witch … now you die.” I scream, terrified as the dagger draws blood. Then, all of a sudden, I hear loud footsteps and the dagger disappears. I stumble backwards and squint through the snow, trying to see who rescued me. Then I spot him, fighting the man with the grating voice, who has drawn his sword. I want to run, but I can’t. My feet are rooted to the ground, and I’m shaking too hard even to walk. Then a voice speaks, a voice just of the opposite of Marzuk’s. It's a mocking voice, teasing even. “Killing children now, are you?” Sword hits sword. “You know I can’t let you get away with that.” Marzuk gives a feral growl, but the sound is cut short. I hear a loud thump, and he topples to the ground. Impossible. “Is he dead?” I whisper. The man still standing walks closer to me. I realize he is quite tall. “No, he is not,” the man replies, his tone a dangerous purr. “Merely unconscious. I don’t kill unless it suits my purposes.” I squint harder, but can’t make out his face. “Who are you?” “Who am I? I, m’lady, am the great Cerulean Kane,” he dips into an elegant bow. “Now, I would highly advise you to do as I say … otherwise you could end up with an enemy worse than Marzuk. I’m far more cunning than him, I must say.” I blink. Apparently my rescuer isn’t really rescuing me. Then the snow slows, and I can see him clearly. All of a sudden, I’m scared.

Do you have to be a teen to participate in Monday Minutes? The title of the post says 'a contest for teens and up' but the post itself says it's a contest for teens. I would just like some clarification. :) thanks!

Hey Tessa, I don't know if this would work, or even if there would be any interest in it, but would it be possible to have an option of submitting artwork instead of writing. I don't exactly know how it would work, but it's an idea! ~E

Hi, Esther! That's a great idea. However, since the focus of my blog is creative writing -- and the majority of MMC participants are writers -- it'd probably be best to stick with writing. But I will have art-related contests in the future when the sequel to Purple Moon releases, so be sure to stay updated on my blog for more details!

‘I told you I'd be back.’ the dragon growled. He stretched himself out in front of the cave entrance and purred. ‘I know you thought I was gone for good.’ Jovan sighed.‘I hoped.’ he murmured. The dragon chuckled. Jovan, who had been lounging on a cushion in one corner of the cave suddenly stood up. He unsheathed his sword, and inspected it closely. ‘Hmm. A bit bent.’ he commented, with a look at Zera. ‘would you mind?’ The dragon shifted and took a deep breath. Jovan smiled and put his sword in front of her, and then got into the shelter. He shuddered every time he heard that roar and felt the heat of Zera’s flame, even from the back of the tunnel. ‘All clear!’ she called. ‘I am glad-’ he announced as he came out of the tunnel, ‘that we are not enemies.’ Zera snorted.‘That's what you think.’ a thin stream of flame came from her nostrils and Jovan quickly got some dygom to douse her flame. Once he returned, his sword was still red hot, and he beat it carefully straight. ‘Now that that's done, I'm bored… bored out of my mind.’ Jovan sighed, flopping onto the cushions again. ‘Do you think- that is, do you mind- er, could you-’ ‘What?’ the dragon said, standing up. ‘You want to go to town, maybe?’ Jovan lept up.‘Exactly!’ he ran and jumped onto her back. ‘You know, Zera old girl, you really are the-’‘Don't flatter me unnecessarily, boy, or I'll have you for dinner!’ she yelled as her wings beat faster and faster, blocking out noise. Niether saw a cloaked figure enter their cave, as they dove off the cliff. Nor the storm clouds brewing in the east, gliding into the west. And no one heard the newborn cries of a newborn baby fill the cave.